


Goldfish

by LadyGlinda



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Crack, Episode: s03e01 The Empty Hearse, Fluff, Insecure Mycroft, Jealous Sherlock, M/M, Mild Smut, Sibling Incest, holmescest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-06
Updated: 2020-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:01:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23039755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyGlinda/pseuds/LadyGlinda
Summary: The famous "Operation" scene with a little twist.
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes/Sherlock Holmes
Comments: 34
Kudos: 75





	Goldfish

“All very interesting, Sherlock, but the terror alert has been raised to critical.”

 _Yes, yes. My boner alert has, too, doesn’t he notice it? “_ Boring. Your move.” _Why are we playing ‘Operation’ when we should be playing ‘Explore your sexy brother’?_

“We have solid information. An attack _is_ coming.”

 _All he can think of is his stupid job_. “‘Solid information’. A secret terrorist organisation’s planning an attack – that’s what secret terrorist organisations _do_ , isn’t it? It’s their version of golf.” _Finally kiss me, Mycroft!_ It was torture to be alone with him and not finally be naked!

“An agent gave his life to tell us that.”

 _Dear God!_ How dramatic Mycroft could be. “Oh, well, perhaps he shouldn’t have done. He was obviously just trying to show off.” _For you. He was showing off for you, probably… For my handsome, super smart, charismatic, sexy big brother. Have you forgotten how close we were when we prepared my ‘death’? All those tiny, not-accidental touches. The deep looks. The blushing. The tension. I did not imagine it!_

But what if he had? Or what if Mycroft just didn’t want to think about it anymore? What if he had been away for too long? Sherlock was dying for just pulling him in and kissing him. But he didn’t dare. Mycroft was the older one. _He_ should make the first step!

But of course his brother just blathered on with the stupid case. “None of these markers of yours is behaving in any way suspiciously? Your move.”

“No, Mycroft, but you have to trust me. I’ll find the answer. It’ll be in an odd phrase in an online blog, or an unexpected trip to the countryside, or a misplaced Lonely Hearts ad. Your move.” _Make a move on_ _ **me**_ _now, dammit!_

“I’ve given the Prime Minister my personal assurance you’re on the case.”

 _Fucking Prime Minister, too stupid to bind his shoes!_ “I _am_ on the case. We’re _both_ on the case. Look at us right now.” _Here we are, sitting around like idiots, when we could be in my bed, doing lovely things!_ He winced at a nasty, loud noise.

“Oh, bugger!” Mycroft dropped the tweezers as the game was over.

“Oopsie! Can’t handle a broken heart – how _very_ telling.” _My heart, Mycroft! Handle my heart!_

“Don’t be smart.”

Yeah. That again… “That takes me back. _‘_ Don’t be smart, Sherlock. _I’m_ the smart one.’”

“I _am_ the smart one.”

 _God, his voice is_ _ **killing**_ _me!_ _And this sexy look!_ “I used to think I was an idiot.” Against his will, he saw himself as a little boy, looking up to his smart big brother. How much he had adored him. And this had never changed… And then it had, without warning, turned into something else, and Mycroft couldn’t have missed it! They had been in contact while he’d been away. But none of them had said or texted anything about these… feelings. They had just spoken about his mission. Safe ground. But now he was back and… things shouldn’t be like this...

“ _Both_ of us thought you were an idiot, Sherlock. We had nothing else to go on ’til we met other children.”

“Oh, yes. That was a mistake.” He had never wanted to share Mycroft.

“Ghastly. What _were_ they thinking of?”

“ _Probably_ something about trying to make friends.” Idiots, all of them.

“Oh yes. _Friends._ Of course, you go in for that sort of thing now.”

How condescending he sounded… “And you don’t? Ever?” Sherlock stared at him. It couldn’t be, could it? It would be the most horrible explanation for Mycroft being so calm and closed up!

“If _you_ seem slow to me, Sherlock, can you imagine what _real_ people are like? I’m living in a world of goldfish.”

Sherlock wasn’t convinced. He could feel that something was off. “Yes, but I’ve been away for two years.” _Say you haven’t found someone else! Because why are you talking to me as if… as if we were just brothers?!_

“So?” Mycroft asked.

Sherlock shrugged, trying to look nonchalant. “Oh, I don’t know. I thought perhaps you might have found yourself a... goldfish.” This was the moment of truth!

And Mycroft bit his bottom lip and looked away, a picture of guilt. “Change the subject, now.”

No. He couldn’t! “Who is it?”

“We have more important matters to discuss, Sherlock.”

But Sherlock couldn’t even endure his brother’s presence anymore. Traitor! Whom had he picked? A pretty agent who wanted to worm his ways up the ranks by getting fucked by the British Government? A moronic minister? An arrogant artist? “I have nothing to discuss,” he said through gritted teeth. “I’ll let you know when I’ve got news.”

Mycroft got up and grabbed his umbrella. “As you wish. I am busy anyway. Meetings, a sodding party in Whitehall this evening… I hope you’ll have results soon; text me anytime then. Good morning.”

No. Nothing was good about this morning!

*****

_Brother, do you have news? MH_

_Tell me about your goldfish! SH_

_Sherlock… MH_

_No, no news. So? SH_

_Off to a meeting. MH_

_°°°_

_Mycroft… Tell me! SH_

_I’m busy. MH_

_I will find out! SH_

_Says the clever detective. Solve my case, Sherlock. MH_

°°°

_You said people are all stupid! So who is then? A prince? SH_

_Our princes are all very straight, Sherlock. Do you even know their names? MH_

_No, and I don’t care. I want to know who your goldfish is! SH_

_The Prime Minister just showed up. Find out about the terrorists. MH_

*****

At the end of this day, Sherlock was a mess. He couldn’t think of anything but the man (and it was a man, wasn’t it? A woman would even be worse!) who had snatched Mycroft away from him.

He ignored all the interview requests and solved only one case the entire afternoon, barely a ‘four’ but the client had slipped into the flat when he had stalked upstairs, and he had found the solution by listening with half an ear, as her voice had been really annoying. He had found a hundred pounds on the table when she had gone.

When it was seven pm, he had reached the end of his tether. And then he remembered what Mycroft had told him in the morning – he would have to attend a party in Whitehall! _He won’t go there with HIM, w_ _ill_ _he?_ No way. Mycroft would never mix up his duties and his (non-existent or so it had been) private life. But he would be there, tied up in stupid conversations with idiots. This was his chance.

Just to be sure, he texted Mycroft.

_Are you enjoying the party? SH_

_Hardly. It is as ghastly as expected. The food is good, though. Find the terrorists. MH_

_Have fun. SH_

Was there any information to find about his brother’s admirer outside of his phone, which he would never be able to steal? It was a long shot. But he had to do something. He had to find out who it was so he could destroy this man! And so he took a cab to his brother’s house, hoping for clues.

Mycroft had not even changed the alarm code since the last time he had broken in. Slipping! The house was dark and silent. He glanced at the living room. Nothing out of the ordinary. The couch didn’t look as if two men had played games on it recently. The kitchen was cleaner than Sherlock's would ever be.

He took a deep breath and went upstairs. The bedroom. Would there be a picture on the bed stand? Would there be underwear that didn’t belong there? Traces of sexual activity?

He heard a weird noise when he approached the room on silent feet. What was that? He had the feeling that he should recognise the noise but he didn’t. Very slowly, he opened the door to his brother’s bedroom – a room he had never seen from the inside.

His look didn’t go to the meticulously made bed. It was drawn to a pale light. The light of a…

He almost fell over when he heard a voice behind him.

“It’s not one. They don’t like to be alone so I took four. Meet Fred, Frank, Dean, and Cary.”

Sherlock whirled around. “You… got yourself some _goldfish_?!”

Mycroft nodded. His face was serious. “The sound helps me sleep, surprisingly enough. And they seem to feel quite comfortable.”

Sherlock couldn’t believe it. His brother had four goldfish, real goldfish, in a huge tank in his bedroom? “Why didn’t you tell me right away? You wanted to make me jealous – of fish?!”

Mycroft put his hands into his trouser pockets, looking down sheepishly. “It was childish. But yes. I… wasn’t sure if you hadn’t changed your mind.”

“But you should have deduced that I did not.” _Mycroft is not taken! He can be mine!_

“Yes. I was… scared, though. Insecure. Frightened that you… would just be curious to find out… how it is. And then leave me again. I know, John is not there anymore but…”

“I never wanted anything from John. But when we arranged my disappearance… God, you were there. You know how things developed between us.”

“But that was two years ago. You never mentioned it in your text and calls. I couldn’t be sure that you still want me.” He yelped when Sherlock was suddenly clinging around his neck.

“I do, brother. I do. I couldn’t wait for returning to you.”

Mycroft’s arms were loosely wrapped around his waist now. “How is your back?” he asked, sounding worried.

Sherlock grimaced. The wounds he had suffered in Serbia would not heal that soon, especially after John had thrown himself onto him in the restaurant… “It stings. But not too bad. Perhaps you shouldn’t exactly hammer me against the mattress but we can be together. I want it. I demand it!”

And finally Mycroft smiled. “When have I ever not indulged you, little brother?”

“See. Not a good time to start doing it.” And finally, finally, the brothers Holmes shared a tender, careful, probing kiss, and Sherlock all but melted in his brother’s arms.

*****

It wasn’t as good as Sherlock had imagined it. It was so much better… Mycroft’s lips were so soft and gentle, his warm hands caressing every inch of him, well, every inch that was not cut and sore. Mycroft was nibbling and pressing sweet little kisses on his neck, his chest, his nipples… It felt heavenly. Sherlock touched whatever he could reach of his brother, but whenever he tried to turn the tables and go on exploration tour himself, his hands were batted away. Mycroft, hairy, soft, sweet-tasting Mycroft, was determined to pamper him, and Sherlock didn’t fight it. Should his brother have his tender way with him. They had time. Time for wilder encounters and screams of pleasure. And this was so nice anyway. Sherlock was lying on his back but it was fine. The sheets were soft and Mycroft didn't put any pressure on his body.

When Mycroft was busy licking his abs, he looked over to the Fabulous Four. “They like watching,” he informed his brother, and he grinned when Mycroft chuckled against his stomach.

“You think they enjoy themselves?”

“Why would they not? We are quite the sight.”

So far, they were wearing their underpants, but both men’s were tented impressively, and Sherlock couldn’t wait to see what his brother was hiding in them.

And now Mycroft pulled at the seam of his boxer briefs. “You mind?”

Sherlock tutted. “As if. Set him free, Mycroft, and show me what you’ve got.”

They both had a lot, they found out only moments later. “Lie on your side, brother,” Mycroft whispered, and Sherlock obeyed and gasped when his prick was lined up against Mycroft's and a large hand was wrapped around them, gently stroking up and down.

“That’s nice,” Sherlock brought out, his face nuzzled against the side of Mycroft's face. “Do it harder, please?”

“Yes.” And Mycroft’s hand increased its speed, rubbing their leaking cocks against each other, and it felt as if a train of arousal was racing through Sherlock's groin.

It was lovely and sexy and Sherlock grabbed Mycroft's arse, kneading a pert cheek, and Mycroft moaned against his face and then Sherlock heard himself making a noise as if he was being strangled – and shot hot fluid over both of their groins, Mycroft's hand and the sheets. Mycroft was murmuring words of reassurance and affection, and soon added his own sticky essence to the mix.

There were no noises but their panting and the bubbling of the tank, and Sherlock felt his brother’s hands on his neck and the small of his back. It was pure bliss.

“Still jealous of my goldfish?” Mycroft eventually broke the silence.

Sherlock grinned. “Very. They may watch you undress every night!”

“True. But you could come over whenever it is possible and join them.”

“Mm-hm. I would love that. And I may touch you – they don’t!”

“Don’t worry. I like my lovers silky, not slimy.”

“I love you, Mycroft. My feelings for you made me get through those two lonely years.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t dare believe that. Won’t happen again. I love you, too.”

“Love you more. And I’m going to solve your case.”

And so they drifted off to sleep, watched by four friendly fish.

  
  


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**Author's Note:**

> I shamelessly borrowed the "boner alert" line from here (wrong brother but who cares): https://bbcsherlockpickuplines.tumblr.com/post/90308926191/warning-this-post-contains-holmescestmore

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [I thought you might have found yourself another goldfish](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23079442) by [sherlock221Bismymuse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sherlock221Bismymuse/pseuds/sherlock221Bismymuse)




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